


Drawings and Deadpool

by whitchry9



Series: Avocados and Avengers [6]
Category: Daredevil (TV), Deadpool (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: (they're really not but whatever), Broken Bones, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Medical, casts are excellent drawing surfaces, deadpool's katanas have names, matt does not want to do a team up, matt is so done
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-17
Updated: 2015-08-06
Packaged: 2018-04-09 19:28:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4361411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whitchry9/pseuds/whitchry9
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Matt really doesn't want to do a team up with Deadpool.<br/>Except then the guy kind of rescues him when he gets in trouble because Matt's an idiot who doesn't know when to call for backup. (And then Deadpool wants to sign his cast.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Alternate title: Deadpool Cannot Draw (but to be fair, neither can Foggy)

Matt had never really met a guy who smelled so much like Mexican food and death before.

Probably for the best.

 

He also had never met anyone who talked as much, not even Spiderman.

Definitely for the best.

 

He'd just finished taking down a group of drug dealers. All six of them were unconscious, with varying injuries, when a guy pretty much dropped out of the sky next to him. He smelled very much like Mexican food and death.

“Aw, you finished without me.” He sheathed large knives back into holders. Matt tried to hide his alarm. “And I really wanted to test out my new katanas.” He sighed. “Bea and Arthur are so disappointed.”

Matt frowned at him. He really wanted to leave, but he also didn't want this guy to cut up the drug dealers into small pieces before the police arrived to take them into custody.

“Hey, Daredevil right?” the guy beamed at him. Matt was pretty sure he was wearing a mask, along with a full body suit.

“No, he's not red Batman, that's not even a thing,” the guy muttered to someone else. Matt didn't know who, because no one else was there.

Matt frowned. If this guy was a hero, he hadn't heard of him before. And if he was a villain, why wasn't he attacking? “I'm sorry, but who the hell are you?”

“Oh. You don't know? Deadpool. The merc with a mouth. Your friendly neighbourhood mercenary. Like your friendly neighbourhood Spiderman, but with more decapitation and severed limbs.”

Matt frowned.

“Unless you don't like that sort of thing. Then I can abstain as long as we're doing team ups.” He paused. “Okay, well I can try.” Another pause. “You're probably right.”

There was still no one else there. Matt frowned. “Who are you talking to?”

“The boxes. It's okay, I know you can't see them.”

Matt's heart skipped a beat. “What?”

How could this guy possibly know he was blind. Could he read minds? He hadn't heard of anyone who could do things like that, but he wasn't ruling it out entirely.

“No one can. Which probably means I'm crazy, but drugs don't help so...” he shrugged.

Right. Of course. This was some sort of deluded man playing dress up and pretending he was a superhero. Or a supervillain. Matt hadn't ruled either out yet. “You said your name was Deadpool?”

He nodded.

“Well, thanks for the offer, but I don't really do team ups.”

“Really? Cause I saw that you and Spiderman fought robot spiders together. And that you and Hawkeye hang out all the time. He's an Avenger you know. Not a lot of people know that. Do you think you could introduce me to them? Or Spiderman? I really like Spiderman, but every time I try to talk to him, he webs me up and swings away. It kinda hurts a guy's feelings after a while. And the robot voice won't let me in the Avengers Tower, even though I just wanted to give them some pancakes. You know how hard it is to eat that many pancakes on your own? Exactly.”

Matt frowned. Okay, so the man wasn't entirely out of touch with reality. But he did have delusions of grandeur. “Those team ups were accidents. I work alone. And I can't introduce you. Sorry. I have to go now.”

He swung off the roof, not giving Deadpool a chance to respond.

“Daredevil,” he moaned, draping himself over the edge of the building as Matt made his way to the ground.

“Daredevil come back! I want to be friends!” Deadpool called after him.

Matt shook his head. He really did not need more friends. Especially ones with questionable grips on reality.

 

He tried to get Deadpool out of his head that night, but there was something about him that was just unnerving. Perhaps it was the smell. The Mexican food he could understand, perhaps the guy just really liked tacos, but the smell of death was harder to explain. Usually it was only in people who were dying or near death. Hospitals, nursing homes, the elderly. Not in knife wielding questionably sane guys in masks.

Matt tried to forget him and hoped that he never reappeared.

 


	2. Chapter 2

“This is why we can't have nice things,” Clint told him.

It took Matt a minute to wrap his head around that. Mostly because the last thing he remembered was suiting up to go out on patrol.

“What?”

He blinked a couple of times, like that would clear up his radar vision. It never did, but it often gave the illusion that he was at least trying to focus. Everything was foggy though, more than usual, just large shapes with no definition. He'd been drugged.

“You got hurt because you didn't call for backup,” Clint said.

Matt frowned. It made his face hurt. Why would his face hurt?

“Do you remember anything that happened?” Bruce asked. How many people were in the room with him? That was something he'd be able to figure out without too much work normally, but with the drugs in his system he had to focus. Three heartbeats, plus his. Clint, Bruce, and someone else. Not Tony or Steve, since their heartbeats were distinct. It could have been Natasha, but she probably would have said something by now.

“Matt,” Bruce repeated. “Do you remember what happened?”

“Not really,” he muttered, still working on the extra heartbeat.

“Dude how can you not remember what happened? It was awesome. I was awesome. Well, okay you weren't that awesome. Mostly me. But you were a little I guess. I was getting to that,” he added.

Matt groaned. It was Deadpool.

“Yeah, we're not so fond of him either, but he did kind of rescue you and bring you to us. And then refused to leave.”

Deadpool bounced over to them. “Yep, that's me. It must suck to not be invincible, right?”

“What?” Matt muttered. There were too many threads of conversation, and he couldn't follow any of them, let alone all of them. Plus, he wasn't even sure if Deadpool was talking to them or to someone they couldn't see. The boxes he'd mentioned.

“Matt, I know you're confused. You were hit on the head and we've given you pain medication, but I need you to focus for a minute,” Bruce said gently. He was right in front of Matt now, and he could almost make out his form if he tried.

“Right. What happened?”

“You took a blow to the head and fell off a building. Deadpool grabbed you before any of the guys you were fighting could finish you off. He brought you here for medical treatment, since apparently he knew that you'd been here before.”

Matt frowned. “Yeah, I may have mentioned it. Or... no, I didn't. He did. I tried to deny it.”

“But I knew better than that.” Matt was pretty sure Deadpool was beaming. Not that he could tell with the painkillers and the mask. But he would place money on it.

Bruce continued. “You have a pretty serious concussion and a broken ankle. Cracked ribs on your left side mostly, and your spleen is bruised. We're pretty sure it's not bleeding internally, but we want to keep an eye on it. And then you have assorted scrapes, bruises, and cuts, but nothing serious. No stitches this time.”

Matt took stock of the areas Bruce mentioned. When he focused on them, he could feel the pain. His ribs shifted when he breathed, and he was right, they were mostly on the left. Only one on the right side was cracked. Not that it meant anything. He wasn't sure what bruised organs sounded like. Probably nothing.

His head and his ankle were the worst though. His leg was wrapped up and on a pillow to reduce swelling.

“Displaced?”

Bruce shook his head. “No. It should be a relatively quick fix. Minimal swelling, non-displaced, good blood flow. One week of non-weight bearing, and then you can move to weight bearing for five or so more.”

Matt groaned. One week was still a very long time, and he couldn't fight in a walking cast either. He'd be benched for at least six weeks, probably more if he wanted to rebuild the strength in his leg when the cast did come off.

“It could be a lot worse,” Bruce reminded him.

“I know that.” It could always be worse. Unless he was dead. Although he wasn't sure if that was actually the worst outcome.

He'd lost his train of thought.

“Why do you smell like death?” he asked Deadpool instead.

“Dude, what?”

“You smell like Mexican food and death. I understand the Mexican food, but why death?”

“Oh. That. Probably because my cells are in a constant state of dying and being regenerated.”

It was the most logical and yet nonsensical thing the man had ever said.

“Right.”

Bruce hummed. “That does explain your healing factor.”

“You can heal?” Matt asked him.

“I did kind of jump off a building while holding you, break a leg, and keep going.”

Matt frowned. “I don't remember.”

Deadpool sighed. “Of course you don't. No one ever remembers my feats of bravery and strength.”

“I thought that you said Matt fell off the building?” Clint asked.

“So?”

“You just said that you jumped off a building holding him.”

“Are you calling me a liar? He's calling me a liar, isn't he?” he asked the people that were not there.

Bruce sighed. “No one is calling you a liar. We're just trying to clear up the events of what happened so we can make sure Matt is well taken care of.”

“They're both true. Daredevil here fell off one building onto another. Then I grabbed him and jumped off that building to the ground. See? No lying Hawkbreath.”

Clint muttered something under his breath that Matt probably could have made out if he wasn't medicated. As it was, he was too amused by Deadpool's name for Clint to focus.

“You can heal?” he repeated, since it wasn't like he'd gotten an answer the first time.

“Yep. I'm pretty much impossible to kill,” he said proudly.

“Sadly,” Clint muttered, just loud enough for Matt to hear, but not anyone else.

Matt giggled at that.

“I think I gave him too many pain meds,” Bruce said, sounding alarmed.

“I can't see anything,” Matt informed him.

Clint snorted. “No shit.”

“No, the other thing. It's all blurry.”

“The radar you mentioned?” Bruce asked.

Matt nodded. The room spun around him. Right. Concussion. Bad idea.

“Whoa,” he muttered. “Dizzy.”

“Yeah, that's the concussion,” Bruce told him, pushing him back into the pillows until he was nearly horizontal again.

Matt blinked. “What are bruised organs supposed to sound like?”

Bruce didn't reply.

“I mean, I can hear broken bones and hairline fractures and dislocations and other stuff, but I don't know what bruised organs are supposed to sound like. Do they have a sound?”

“Definitely too much drugs,” Clint muttered.

“I don't think so,” Bruce told him. He placed a hand on Matt's arm, holding him to the bed. “I've called your friend. He's going to come visit, but I want you to stay here tonight.”

“Foggy?” Matt asked. Another thought hit him. He popped his head up to attempt to stare in Deadpool's direction. “Don't tell anyone about my secret identity,” he growled.

“Dude, never. Super-bros don't out super-bros.”

Satisfied, Matt let his head back down again. “Good,” he agreed.

He closed his eyes.

“You get some rest, alright?” Bruce told him.

Matt considered nodding, but remembered how the last time turned out. He hummed in agreement instead.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Deadpool is very serious about the whole not outing superbros thing.


	3. Chapter 3

When he woke up next, everything was slightly less blurry, and Foggy was there.

“Hey,” he greeted.

Foggy huffed at him.

“I'm sensing you're angry with me,” Matt drawled.

“Oh don't quote British tv shows to try and make me less angry.”

“Is it working?” Matt asked hopefully.

“No,” Foggy retorted, but it had less bite.

Matt grinned at him.

“Oh stop that. You've got too many broken bones to look so pleased with yourself.”

“Not really. Such a small percentage, really.”

Foggy was glaring at him, Matt was sure of it.

“I'm sorry,” he said more softly. “I'd try to explain it, but I don't remember what happened, so I can't.”

Foggy sighed. “How did you get here?”

Matt couldn't smell Deadpool anywhere, and since Foggy wasn't complaining about him, he probably hadn't met him. Matt would like to keep it that way.

“One of the guys brought me in.”

He was pretty sure Foggy was frowning, but everything was still too blurry to tell. It was hard enough to tell on a good day when he wasn't medicated and in pain. Which he realized he was, as the medication wore off. Ouch.

“What's wrong?” Foggy asked.

Matt shook his head.

“Don't lie to me Murdock,” Foggy warned.

“The drugs are wearing off,” he sighed. “And my leg is hurting.”

“Yeah, because it's broken. Broken things hurt.”

“Thank you for that Foggy. I never would have known.”

He heard the eye rolling. “Shall I get someone back in here to give you some drugs or something?”

“No,” Matt said quickly. “I don't like the drugs. I can't see anything with them. And the concussion is messing with my head enough without throwing narcotics on top.”

“You know, it is okay to be normal blind sometimes,” Foggy told him gently. “All you're doing right now is resting and recovering. You're not fighting ninjas or taking down bad guys. You don't need your super senses. And I guarantee it will be easier to sleep if you don't hurt everywhere.”

“I don't hurt everywhere.”

“Dude.”

“I... can't. I know that I don't need to be able to hear your heartbeat right now, or be able to tell if you're smiling or not, but if I can't do those things, I have nothing. I'm helpless.”

Foggy sighed at him. Definitely not smiling, Matt could tell that much.

“Matty, you need to let yourself be vulnerable sometimes. It's okay to ask for help. It's okay to be hurt. It's okay to take a break now and then. And from what the other half of the Hulk told me, you'll be taking a break for a few weeks.”

“Dr Banner,” Matt grumbled. He didn't understand Foggy's continuing fascination with the Avengers. That was probably the real reason he wanted Matt to stay longer and sleep more, so he could go socialize with the superheroes.

He would not take kindly to that suggestion though, so Matt kept it to himself.

“Dr Banner,” Foggy agreed. “He told me that your ankle is broken. Oh, and while you were asleep, he mentioned that he's going to cast it in the morning, so you have to stay at least until then, and he told me to ask you about colour preferences. And then he was adorably awkward and tried to pretend it didn't happen and I reminded him you had sight until you were nine and that you remember colours. So. Colour?”

“Nothing. White I guess.”

Foggy nodded, that much Matt could tell. “Ah yes, the best drawing surface.”

Matt groaned. “You're not drawing on my cast. You'd probably just draw some awful avocado or something.”

“Rude. My art skills are at least twice, maybe even three times as good as yours. And granted, it's not saying a lot, but let me have it Murdock.”

“I heard the conversation you and Karen had about who was the second best artist in the office. She was arguing for me.”

“Of course you heard that,” Foggy muttered. “Honestly, I think it's just cause she feels sorry for you. After all, my art skills are responsible for our epic sign.”

“Of course,” Matt agreed.

Foggy stood up. “I'm going to go now. You rest. Behave. Taken more pain meds already.”

He turned and walked out.

Matt frowned. That was unusual.

“Foggy, you're coming back tomorrow, right?” he called after his friend. “You'll take me home, right? Foggy?”

Foggy didn't respond, just kept walking.

 

Matt lay back.

“Text message from Foggy,” his phone announced. Someone had kindly placed it on a nearby table or something.

Matt fumbled around for the button that would make his phone read it to him.

“Of course I'm coming to get you tomorrow don't be an idiot. Now rest.”

Matt smiled and closed his eyes. Perhaps he would even consider some more pain medication.

 


	4. Chapter 4

It was a few days later and Matt was settled at home. He woke up from a power nap on the couch only to realize he wasn't alone in his apartment.

That would have worried him if he hadn't been able to tell who it was immediately. The scent was rather distinctive.

“Deadpool,” he sighed. “What are you doing here?”

Deadpool jumped from one of the beams above Matt's head. “You rang?”

“I don't even want to know how you got up there,” he muttered. “What are you doing here?” He paused. “Are you wearing my costume?”

“Yep. I think it's a good look for me. The horns are a bit much, but I can work with them.”

Matt closed his eyes. “Why are you wearing my costume?”

“Well, it's not like you're using it.”

“I'm recovering.”

“Exactly. You're recovering and not out there being Daredevil. Which means I can take a turn being Daredevil.”

“Then who's going to be Deadpool?” Matt asked.

Deadpool shrugged. “No one will miss me a couple of nights a week. Actually, I probably wouldn't be missed at all.”

“I'm sure someone would miss you,” Matt assured him. He had no clue if it was true or not. He knew nothing about the other man's life.

“If you say so,” Deadpool said dubiously. Matt couldn't be sure if he was being spoken to or not. It certainly fit into the conversation, but that meant nothing.

“Why are you wearing my costume?” he repeated. The conversation was going in circles and Matt was only getting dizzy.

“I'm going to go out and kill all the bad guys for you,” he told Matt.

“I don't kill people Deadpool,” he growled.

He held his hands up in a defensive position. “Well how was I supposed to know that?”

“Normal people don't go around killing others!” Matt burst out.

“You run around in a devil suit,” Deadpool pointed out. “That's hardly normal people behaviour.”

“Like you're one to talk,” Matt muttered. “Your katanas have names.”

Deadpool seemed affronted. “Now, there's no reason to bring Bea and Arthur into this.”

He stroked his katanas, which for some reason, he was cradling in his arms. Matt just shook his head.

“You cannot wear my costume and go out killing people.”

Deadpool paused. “Oh, is that the issue?”

“Well, mostly.” He kind of had an issue with Deadpool going out in his costume at all, but the guy seemed intent on doing it, so he sure wasn't going to let him kill people.

“Oh. Okay then.” He paused and tilted his head. “No, that's what he's trying to say. That we can't kill people.” He sighed. “No, not even a little bit. Weren't you listening?”

Matt gave up on trying to follow the conversation, since it was obvious Deadpool wasn't talking to him.

“No killing. Don't do anything... you know, _you_ like.”

“So no cutting off limbs,” he clarified.

“That's right. No knives, no guns.”

“What does that leave me with?” Deadpool protested.

“Fists. Sticks.”

“Right, you and your little sticks.”

Matt pointed a finger at him. “Don't knock the sticks. The sticks work.”

Deadpool sighed and set his katanas down gently on Matt's kitchen table.

“Those better be clean,” he sighed.

Deadpool started pulled guns and knives out of Matt's suit (where he found space to put them, Matt didn't know) and set them on the table as well. They just kept coming. Deadpool had to move to the counter.

He paused.

“Oh, is that all of them?” Matt drawled.

“No, there's one more. I just can't remember where... Oh!” he exclaimed, and dug around, revealing one final gun. Deadpool set it down with care.

“Oh gee, is that all?”

Deadpool scratched his head. “Probably.”

 

Matt sighed. “I don't see why you have to do this.”

“Because if Daredevil doesn't show up for six whole weeks, people will think you're dead,” he said, matter of fact.

“Not necessarily,” Matt muttered.

“Well, people might get suspicious that you and Daredevil seem to get hurt at the same time,” Deadpool countered.

“But I'm blind. How could I possibly be Daredevil,” Matt pointed out.

Deadpool shrugged, tucking clubs into his pockets. Matt had no clue where he'd acquired them. Or when.

“I don't make the rules man. I just do what the writers tell me. Well. You're right, only some of the time. Other times I just do what I want.”

Matt frowned. He was not going to ask.

“Hey, can I sign your cast?”

“With what?” he asked warily. “I can't go around with a cast signed by a bunch of vigilantes and superheroes.”

“My name. I do have a name you know. Besides Deadpool. And merc with a mouth. And the thing where people think I'm Spiderman.”

“Oh.” To be honest, Matt hadn't considered that. Deadpool wasn't exactly open about his personal life, or who he was outside the costume. Matt had actually suspected he didn't have much of a life outside his costume. “So what is your name?”

“Wade.”

Matt nodded. “Hi Wade. Nice to meet you.”

“Is that a yes? Can I sign your cast?”

“Yeah, just don't... you know, draw something-”

“Me like?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Matt sighed. “There's a marker on the counter. Probably underneath all the guns and knives you piled on top of it.”

“Nope,” Wade said proudly, waving something in his hand. “I picked it up before I dumped all my shit.”

Of course.

Matt's leg was still propped up on the coffee table, a pillow underneath.

Deadpool came over and knelt next to him, pausing for a moment to consider his message. Matt could smell the uncapped marker.

After a moment, he scrawled something just below Matt's knee, and spent a while longer sketching something out.

He stood up and admired his handiwork. “Beautiful,” he declared.

“What did you draw?” Matt asked, half dreading the answer.

“A chimichanga,” Deadpool beamed. “So you'd remember me.”

“You know I can't see it right?”

Deadpool waved a hand. “That's not important. It's the thought that counts.”

Matt gave up on trying to argue logic with a man who seemed to enjoy defying logic at every turn.

“How could I ever forget,” he sighed instead.

Deadpool jumped up and down a bit. “I knew you'd love it Matty.”

“Don't call me that.”

“Matty? Why not?”

“I don't like it.”

“Oh. Matt? Matthew? Matthius?”

“Matt is fine.”

Deadpool saluted him. “You got it.”

He looked around. “Ah, roof access. I'm just gonna use that and go, kay?”

“No, don't tell him that,” he muttered to himself. Or... whoever he spoke to.

Matt waved goodbye.

 

He was pretty sure Deadpool did a backflip off the roof, and cracked a couple of bones on the landing.

Matt sighed.

Now he just had to figure out what to do about the enormous stash of weapons in his kitchen.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aka probably fall asleep and do nothing until Foggy comes over and flips the hell out because SO. MANY. WEAPONS.


	5. Chapter 5

Matt went into work the next day, despite Foggy's protest that he really didn't need to go at all, or at least until he was allowed to walk on his cast. Of course, Matt had never really been one for listening, and he struggled into work, balancing his crutches, his cane, and his bag, and still managing to arrive before Foggy.

He got himself all set up, his laptop and braille display ready to go, and his leg propped up on a cushion. That's when Foggy showed up. He'd had a bagel with cream cheese for breakfast, and the coffee he was carrying had too much sugar in it.

His heart rate picked up when he saw Matt and he sighed. Foggy set his coffee and bag on Karen's desk before entering Matt's office.

“Why are you here? I told you that you didn't have to come, at least not until next week.”

Matt shrugged, running his fingers over his braille display. He wasn't actually reading anything, but Foggy didn't need to know that.

“Matt, what is that on your cast?” Foggy asked, bending over to get a better look. “Matt, I think someone drew a poop on your cast and signed it. Who's Wade?”

Matt sighed. “It's supposed to be a chimichanga.”

“Okay, I can see it now. It probably would have gone better if he drew a taco or something. But that doesn't answer my other question, who is Wade?”

Matt sighed. Karen wasn't in yet, so there really was no reason he couldn't tell Foggy. “Deadpool.”

“Oh man. You met that guy? And let him sign your cast? Matt, in case you can't tell, he's kind of crazy.”

“Oh, I can tell,” Matt assured him.

“That really doesn't make it any better. Why did you let him sign your cast?”

Matt ignored him. “Karen's coming.”

 

Foggy spun around just in time for him to greet Karen as she walked in the door.

“Have you seen this?” she asked him. “Oh, hey Matt.” She held a newspaper up for Foggy to see.

“Thugs claim Daredevil was shot point blank and walked away,” Foggy read out loud for Matt's sake.

Matt let his head hit his desk.

“You okay Matt?” Karen asked, looking at him in concern. “Oh, is that a poop on your cast?”

“It's a chimichanga,” Foggy informed her. “Or it's supposed to be.”

“Ah. And who's Wade?”

“A terrible artist,” Matt replied, his face still becoming very familiar with his desk.

“Speaking of, I brought different coloured markers!” Karen added brightly. “So Foggy and I can both sign and draw things. Not poop looking things.”

“Chimichanga,” Matt sighed into his desk.

“Of course,” Karen agreed.

 

Matt sighed again. He had a feeling it was going to be a long day.

 

* * *

 

Deadpool showed up again that night.

“You can't just get shot and be fine,” Matt sighed to him. “Now people are going to think I have healing powers or something.”

Deadpool waved a hand. “It was a terrible shot anyway. Only hit a lung. Ooh, nice flowers on your cast. Karen is good at art. And... um. Maybe don't tell Foggy this, but that green blob monster thing is not a good look.”

“It's an avocado,” Matt sighed. He wondered if it was too soon to beg Claire to take the cast off.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, so if you follow me on tumblr (or don't yet, hint hint) I'm holding a giveaway because I hit a follower milestone. I'll be writing a fic for the winner(s).   
> So if you like my writing, and haven't entered yet, go for it!  
> [Check it out here.](http://ijustreallylovedaredevil.tumblr.com/post/125846597720)


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